


Paradise

by agreatmanythings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Obidala, Padme Lives, Parent AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-05-07 13:01:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14671629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agreatmanythings/pseuds/agreatmanythings
Summary: Obi-Wan sat anxiously on the modest spacecraft, one hand on a knee that refused to remain still. Two incubators were strapped to the table beside him, their clear casing allowing a view of the newborns who slept sprawled amongst delicate blankets.It was better this way. Better for the galaxy to believe Padmé Amidala was dead.





	1. The End

Along the horizon, the sky radiated a glistening yellow, then crept up into a brooding purple. The sunset cast opaque shadows across the faces, leaving slivers of silver tears to trickle down from their eyes to their chins. Hundreds upon hundreds of heads dipped low in mourning.

With their eyes on the ground, they missed the minuscule breathing clip within her nose, the IV cords slithering beneath her sleeves, and the plastic pouches of blood and medication covered by her long, outstretched robe. The only object on display was the carved wooden pendant on her chest.

It was better this way. Better for the galaxy to believe Padmé Amidala was dead.

 

\---

 

The lights were bright. So goddamn inconveniently bright. 

Padmé blinked several times to adapt to the searing glare. An incessant beeping looped beside her ear. Over and over again. _BEEP. BEEP. BEEP_. She winced at the throbbing induced and turned to find a large hologram floating above her head, repeating the same stupid zig-zagging line across the screen. But what remained behind her heartbeat froze her gaze. 

Through the translucent hologram, a man slumped forward, cramped in an ill-fitting chair. His light snores vibrated off his chest and soothed the pounding within her skull. Padmé tried to reach a quivering hand out to him, but it fell short on the edge of her mattress. Wheezing for air between lungs that seemed deflated, she croaked the sole syllable she could manage. 

“Obi…”

 

\---

 

There they were. The exasperating lights again. Sealing her eyes shut with an inaudible hiss anytime she attempted to open them. But this time, Padmé peeled her lids open, despite the pain, determined for answers. She knew they were here. 

She heard them. They sounded so sweet, so innocent, so untainted. Their cries echoed within the back of her skull throughout a dreamless sleep. 

“L-Luke,” a voice wheezed, the hologram above beeped faster, “Leia.” 

Obi-Wan woke up this time, and sprung to her bedside with eyes wide in alarm. But sorrow seeped through his irises. 

“They’re safe,” he whispered, wrapping a warm, calloused hand over her’s. 

The air began to abandon her lungs again, shriveling them up like used balloons within her chest. 

“Ani?” Padmé pleaded with one last breath. 

But she knew the answer. It bloomed within the sorrow that clouded his eyes.

“Your children are safe.” 

 

\---

 

The lights did not wake her. Nor did the constant beeping. 

It was a song.

A soft, wailing melody so pure it dug her out of sleep. 

Obi-Wan stood beside her as before, his features altering into focus. The song came from beneath him. From the bulky, transparent box he hunched over. Within lay a baby, it’s skin skin still discolored and eyes not yet open. It cried in discomfort. 

Padmé nearly choked on the laugh that dared to explode from her throat. 

With shaking fingers, she slipped her hand through the hole in the glass and pressed a palm against the crown of tender skin. The baby quieted. 

“Leia,” Obi-Wan whispered, as though afraid to shatter the delicacy of the moment.

Another song began, this time on the opposite side of the bed. That same piercing, distant wail. Padmé turned to find a second box cradling a second baby, with matching wrinkled skin and sealed eyes. 

“Luke.”

Mirroring her right arm, the mother laid a gentle palm against his scalp. Luke relaxed. 

Padmé cried again.

 

\---

 

She fidgeted with the holopad beside her bed. Why were these stupid things so damn complicated? Can’t a woman adjust her bed?

Padmé released a grunt of frustration, waking the man slumped in the chair. He caught sight of her scowl and the pad in her hands and soon stood over her, delicately extracting it from her grip. 

“Up,” she croaked. 

Obi-Wan cocked a disapproving eyebrow.

“Up!”

The tiniest of smirks tugged the corner of his beard as the bed soon began to rise. Not enough. Padmé shot him a glare she reserved for negotiations. The bed folded forward. 

“The babies?” she asked once upright.

Obi-Wan set the pad down and pressed his hands against the bedrail. 

“They’re safe.”

The negotiation glare again.

“They’re in the infirmary. As far as anyone knows, they’re still unborn. And you’re in a critical condition, unlikely to survive, much less give birth.”

Padmé pinched her brows. 

“In a few days,” Obi-Wan continued, “Padmé Amidala will die along with her stillborn twins. It is then that you and the children will be taken away.” 

The senator nodded, as though scanning the plan like it were a vote she could pass. 

“Where?”

“Somewhere safe.”


	2. The Flowers

The med droids drugged her till she was bound to sleep dreamlessly for hours. Then their memories were wiped. 

Obi-Wan sat anxiously on the modest spacecraft, one hand on a knee that refused to remain still. Two incubators were strapped to the table beside him, their clear casing allowing a view of the newborns who slept sprawled amongst delicate blankets. 

_Bloody hell, what had he gotten himself into?_

The jedi didn’t know the first thing about taking care of babies, much less their mother. Obi-Wan tried not to think of Padmé. The thought of her warmed and broke his heart all the same and now she was to be with him till…

Pounding tore his concentration. 

He checked the security viewpoint, then opened the hatch. A droid led a large, hovering box up the ship’s ramp and into the cabin. Obi-Wan slammed the door shut before flicking his wrist carelessly towards the robot. It crumpled into a heap of parts. 

He only dared open the box a crack, then turned and entered the cockpit and seized control of the already running engine. 

 

\---

 

The jedi had debated where to go for endless days and sleepless nights. Ironically, his original thought had been Naboo. Too obvious. Much too dangerous. 

Then Tatooine. Anakin had distant family there. But a selfish part of Obi-Wan told him no. 

He then considered his own home world, but thought better then to choose a planet which he or the twins possessed ties to. No, someplace remote -in the Outer Rim- with abundant flora and fauna. From what Anakin had once told him, the senator enjoyed nature. 

Back in the ship’s cabin, Obi-Wan could not bring himself to stop watching her. He felt as though the closer he was, the more he could somehow protect her. From what, the jedi remained unsure. In his personal abilities to defend her from unknown dangers, he also found himself growing uncertain. 

The past few days stirred an old heartache within. The tiny, guilty thought of perhaps they could be something … more, resurfaced. Born upon original introduction with the feisty “handmaiden,” then reappeared on the rare occasions when their paths crossed. From padawan to master Obi-Wan buried the idea. It was not the jedi way. 

Besides, she loved another. She even bore his children.

The Padmé he knew and admired was beautiful and strong. Bursting with passion. 

But she no longer looked strong. 

Though Obi-Wan knew she maintained her strength in stubbornness and a sharp tongue, it seemed so far away, faded from her pale, sunken features. Like the queen from before was but a distant dream.

 

\---

 

The lights were different. Less … invasive. The beeping had stopped, and the familiar thrum of machinery circled gently around her. 

She choked on the new filtered air as it pierced her throat.

Immediately, Obi-Wan was at her side, whispering a soft, “Padmé.”

_Why was he always whispering?_ She was not some doll bound to snap at the sound of his voice. 

Padmé’s throat slowly began to relax as she attempted to sit up. A heavy robe weighed her body down.

“Dammit,” she croaked.

The old ghost of a smirk played at the jedi’s beard. 

“Here.” He extended a hand above, then slipped the other beneath her shoulder. 

Padmé huffed before accepting his help. She felt so weak so … small. Like every ounce of strength her body once held left with the twins. 

At the thought of them she scanned the cabin in a frenzy, before stopping at the incubators on the table. 

“They’re safe.”

Padmé forced herself to meet his gaze and nod. 

They were okay. She was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

 

\---

 

Obi-Wan let her lean all her weight against his torso, without actually scooping her into his arms. He knew she would put up a fight before she ever allowed him to do something so … gallant. Together they walked to the nearest bunk where it folded down from the wall. He set her delicately upon the mattress and turned to leave before she spoke.

“Obi … C-can you hel-p get these s-stupid flowers out of my h-hair?” She wheezed the words with what little air her lungs allowed. 

But the sight of Pamdé picking through her hair and scowling at the white flowers so intricately woven evoked the ghost smile on his lips. 

“Of course.”

He slowly sat himself behind her on the mattress. Her hair was silk, flowing over her shoulders like threads of brown and gold that slithered between his rough, calloused fingers and out of his grasp no matter how gentle he tried to be. But the jedi master remained in total concentration, extracting the flowers individually as though it were the most important task in the galaxy.

Padmé reached up to grasp the wooden pendant around her neck.


	3. The Hovel

The weather on Paradisus remained fairly constant. Damp and warm enough to farm throughout its cycles, with greenery and mountain ranges dominating the landscape. 

Obi-Wan used the money Senator Bail Organa had given him to, “care for the last shreds of hope in the galaxy.” The thought twisted the knife of guilt within. They were only children. 

The jedi pushed this from his mind as he purchased an abandoned farm, halfway up the green mountainside and overlooking a tumultuous ocean. 

When Obi-Wan returned to the ship, he found the mother leaning against the table, feet unsteady against the ground and a hand in each incubator. Both twins had wrapped themselves around her fingers as they slept, like vines clinging on to their life source. 

“Paradisus?” Padmé spoke, eyes remaining trained on the infants. Her voice still contained a jagged edge to it as each syllable cut at her lungs. 

The jedi nodded. “Its remote, green, and known for the-”

“Oryza root.”

“Yes. I’ve purchased an old farm-”

Padmé choked on what seemed to be a laugh. Obi-Wan was unsure whether to help her lie back down or allow her this familiar sound. 

“You?” she croaked, finally bringing her gaze to him, “A farmer?” 

He tucked his chin back in defiance. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he dared to joke, “I can assure you, I am a man of many talents.”

A wide, pure smile illuminated Padmé’s sunken face and squeezed the corners of her glazed eyes. The jedi was suddenly thankful he had chosen a quip versus what he meant to say. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

 

\---

 

The majority of the farm resided snuggly between two mountain tops, spread across an outreaching arm of land that connected the two. The looming peaks shielded them from the harsh wind thrown from the surrounding sea. 

The hovel left by previous owners was no more than a frame of rocks caked with mud into a dome-shaped shelter. But Padmé never once complained of its tiny size or minimal accessories. It possessed what was needed. A hearth, a window, a table and two chairs, a washroom, and a bedroom. 

Obi-Wan had offered the bedroom to her and the twins, but the main room retained heat during the cool, rainy nights, and Padmé refused to leave their side. So he removed mattresses from with the ship’s bunks and placed one near the hearth, and the other in the bedroom. 

The twins cried at night and slept during the day, but the jedi did not mind. He never slept anyways. How could he? So Obi-Wan sat by the fire and cradled and shushed the infants till their cries subsided and Padmé finally allowed herself to sleep in the bedroom. 

It was in these silent sleepless nights by the hearth which he tortured himself over the events which decimated the galaxy and the woman in the bedroom. How could he have been so stupid? So blind? So … righteous? It disgusted him. But when one of the twins let out a gurgle of contentment or a happy yawn, or snuggled closer into his chest, the last jedi was reeled back into the current reality with a melted heart. He had a duty, one last mission. Protect these children, protect their mother. And pray to whatever gods may listen that they will not have to bear the weight of their father’s sins. 

 

\---

 

For weeks Obi-Wan worked to revive what little crop the previous farmer had left them. He felt most at peace when hunched over with his hands sunken into the damp soil. It gave him an immediate task to focus on.

In the meantime, he and Padmé ate what rations Senator Organa had supplied them with, while the jedi occasionally went down to the valley where a small market sold fresh food. 

Padmé, still too weak to help him in the fields, busied herself with “making the hovel slightly more homely.” The wooden pendant would swing from her sternum as she bustled about the place. When she assumed he could not see, she would reach up and hold it in her palm with eyes scorched shut, as though in prayer to some unseen god.

On occasions when Obi-Wan returned from the crops, he would find her chest bare, with two young, squirming children at her breast. She would sit on the mattress by the hearth, or on a blanket in the grass and nurse them, unfazed by his presence in these intimate moments. He would quickly excuse himself and find an isolated spot overlooking the ocean before the blush shone through his graying beard. 

Padmé had jokingly pointed out the fading color one evening as they sat across the table from each other, eating food recently purchased from the market. He only nodded and sent a little hum of acknowledgment in reply. She paused before reaching a hand out to cup his cheek. The jedi stilled and averted his eyes. 

“Obi …” 

She spoke softly, a gentle, maternal instinct echoing in her voice. He could feel her gaze upon him, asking a question too futile to say aloud. _Are you alright?_ Obi-Wan only stared on into the hearth. Padmé caressed her thumb along his cheekbone where his beard crept to a stop. 

“Look at you,” voice dropping to border a whisper, “A young man with graying hair and a gait so slumped you walk as though you carry the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders.” 

A thumb slid to wipe a tear he had tried so hard to bury within since the day everything shattered to pieces. Since the day he lost his best friend, his brother. 

And there they remained, gentle hands reaching across the table to hold the crying face of a broken man.


	4. The Market

The crops were soon ready to harvest, and so through the wind and rain worked the former queen and jedi master, side by side, on hands and knees, caked in mud as two ever-growing babies slept peacefully on a blanket nearby. 

Finally having gained a majority of her strength back, Padmé insisted on joining Obi-Wan for his trip to the market, eager to see something other than the plaster walls of the tiny hovel. It only took an hour of convincing to crack the jedi, who apparently had taken to calling himself Ben when down in the market. Clearly, she was in need of an new name also.

“Anna?” 

Padmé crumpled her nose in distaste.

“Fay?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, fingers playing at his chin, a habit she recalled from another lifetime.

“What about Eve?” 

“Eve?”

The jedi nodded. “There was an ancient tale on my home world. Eve was the first female, and the mother of all.”

Padmé considered. It was rare for him to allow her to catch pieces of his past. She nodded, a smile growing across her features. 

“Eve, I like that.”

 

\---

 

Obi-Wan had crafted a sort of sling from his old jedi robes. It allowed him to carry both twins, with Luke nestled against his chest, and Leia his back. It made Padmé want to laugh, to almost cry, at seeing what Obi-Wan Kenobi, the revered jedi master and great army general had become. And how he cared for her children. She clutched at the wooden pendant.

His beard continued to gray, and she swore the roots on his scalp were beginning to follow suit. Here he sauntered down the rocky hillside, a babe on each side, a staff in his right hand and a basket of crops in his left. He refused to let Padmé carry anything, afraid of burdening her still recovering body through the trek downhill, no matter how often she insisted to be fine.

 

\---

 

The market was … small. But quaint. Though it was no Naboo, Padmé felt a fondness towards it simplicity even from a distance. There had to be less than fifty beings, mingling about less than a dozen stalls, each selling goods. Fruits. Plants. Meat. Cloth. Jewelry. And Oryza roots. Lots and lots of Oryza roots. 

But before Padmé could voice her concerns on the clear abundance of their sole crop, Obi-Wan weaved them to the edge of the cluster, towards an empty booth with an obese, gray humanoid snoring into his double chin. 

The jedi whacked the stall with his staff. 

The man woke with a snarling, “Wh-what? What?!” but relaxed upon seeing Obi-Wan standing above him. A cackle clicked from his cracked lips. 

“Farmer Ben!” he roared, reaching out to envelope the hand which held the staff, “What has the ole’ hermit been up to these days?” 

His eyes widened when they bounced to her. “You never told me your wife was a goddess, you ole’ fool!” 

The man bent over in a sloppy bow to push a toothless kiss upon her hand. “Turpis, Mrs. Ben. At your service.”

Padmé merely offered a polite smile. “Eve.”

“Eve!” he bellowed, “A lovely name for a lovely lady.” He turned to Obi-Wan. “Now how did the likes of you come to woo the likes of her?” 

Ben forced a tight-lipped smile. 

In a sudden exclamation, Turpis gestured to the bundle against Ben’s chest. “Ah! I see you two’ve been busy.” 

A cry erupted from behind them as he finished. His eyes widened till it seemed as though they would pop out of his skull entirely. The second bundle on Obi-Wan’s back squirmed. 

“Apparently, you’ve been twice as busy!” The man chuckled and sent an obvious wink towards the jedi. 

Padmé hid her smile at the faint shades of pink creeping beneath his beard.

 

\---

 

The galaxy was falling apart. Crumbling to pieces like a delicate pastry in the clutch of the Empire. There were days when Obi-Wan stole away to their ship, hidden in the mountainside between boulders, to gather what information he could from the outside world. To search for any hint of his old padawan. But all he ever found was chaos, destruction, slavery, darkness. Fear. The galaxy weeped with fear. 

He switched off the holopad and sighed, leaning back in the pilot’s seat as his fingers unconsciously played at the hair that now hung inches past his jawline. Obi-Wan never told Padmé when he stole away to the ship. He never had to. She knew. Whenever she looked at him from across the kitchen table, or amongst the crops, or above the heads of the twins, she just seemed to know. He prayed she did not know all within him. The queen did not deserve to know what stirred his thoughts and burned in his memories. But her eyes were somehow accepting. She gave him the space and time needed and for that, he was ever grateful. 

Obi-Wan scaled back down the mountainside, staff in hand. Padmé used to tease him about it. 

By the time he reached the hovel, the sky had grown dark as clouds buried it with the heavy rain that slapped against his hood. Upon entering, Leia ran to him, already having mastered control of her stubby legs. She raised her arms up and squealed with glee as he lifted her to his side. The child smiled up at him, a mess of red cheeks and bouncing brown curls. Luke waddled after her, still slightly unsteady in his walk, and wrapped two chubby arms around the jedi’s shin, burying a splat of blonde shaggy hair into his knee. 

“Why hello there!” Obi-Wan greeted, placing a dramatic kiss paired with a loud “MWAH” on Leia’s cheek as he ruffled Luke’s hair. 

“Now where is your mother?”

“She got Cano!” Leia exclaimed. 

“She has a what?”

“Cano!” Luke shouted. 

As if on cue, Padmé emerged from the bedroom, hair braided loosely back and eyes alight. “Obi!” she exclaimed in an excited whisper, “Come see!” 

She knelt before the hearth, a small mound of blankets at her knees. Obi-Wan set Leia down and the twins ran towards their mother. He followed, crouching above the blankets. Peeking out from the cloth was a pair of long, thin gray antennae-like ears, with tufts of hair sprouting from the tips. He reached over to lift the material ever so slightly, revealing a ball of silver fur wrapped in its own rope tial, with eyes squeezed shut and a muzzle hidden beneath wide-padded paws. 

The mother and her children watched him eagerly, bouncing giddily with grins across their faces. 

“Oh my. So this is the Cano you spoke of.”

“Caneo,” Padmé corrected. 

“Meaning gray. Clever.” 

“And how did you come across this Caneo?” he inquired, gently lowering the blanket.

“Well, the twins were helping me cook dinner when I heard a crying from outside-”

“And you went to investigate?”

“Obviously.”

Obi-Wan nodded thoughtfully, watching the cloth rise and fall as Caneo slept. “And I suppose you wish to keep it?”

“Him. He’s only a pup and will die if we leave him to fend for himself.”

The jedi only hummed in acknowledgement as he studied the beaming faces beside him. They were all so young, so innocent. It was solely in Padmé’s eyes where any hint of suffering was exposed with the slight wrinkles in the corners and heavy purple bags beneath them, emphasized in the firelight. Obi-Wan sighed in defeat. 

“I suppose we have a duty to care for him then.”

The twins squealed with delight as their mother shushed them, but the smile on her face grew. 

Luke and Leia quickly became distracted and wondered off across the hovel, but Padmé and Obi-Wan remained in the warmth of the hearth, Caneo sleeping between them. The former queen met his gaze and smiled, so radiantly. The only good in the galaxy. It was then the stirring feeling returned to the jedi, and she knew. She always knew.


	5. The Mud

Padmé offered to tend to the fields. Obi-Wan remained indoors as the rain beat against the plaster of the hovel. He fed the growing twins dinner, then tucked them in bed and lulled them to sleep with a story. Recently, they had begun to sleep in the bedroom with their mother, leaving the jedi alone near the hearth. Even Caneo, now almost full grown, preferred to curl up beside the children.

The temperature dropped as the warm air was sucked out of the hovel and into the night. Padmé stood at the door, cloak drenched and hood pulled over her face. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” he quipped, the way she so often would when he returned late, “There’s stew in the …”

His voice trailed off as she lifted her head to meet his gaze. Her face drenched, eyes blood-shot. 

“Its him,” she whispered, her voice quivering as though a string about to snap, “The monster. On the holonet. Its him.” She choked back a sob as a hand flew to her mouth. “Its Ani.”

Tears began to race along her cheeks as painful gasps rocketed her body. Obi-Wan sprung to her side, as he did beside her hospital bed, and wrapped a hesitant arm around her back. A hand rose to pet her tangled braid as he led her to lean against his chest. 

Padmé felt small again. Like she did 5 years ago on Coruscant. She was so strong, so unbreakable … at least, that's what she tried to have the jedi believe. And often he did. But there were days and nights when he heard her hushed tears through a closed door. She never cried when he was around. Only in solace did she allow herself to fall apart. Till now. With all her smiles and quips and stubbornness, he forgot about her heart. 

It was breaking, just as his was. 

And so the jedi held her tight, pressed against his chest in hope that maybe his heartbreak could soothe her’s. 

Time slipped as they stood, till her tears slowed and her gasps became little hiccups into his tunic. Obi-Wan whispered gently as he ushered her towards his mattress. 

“It's alright. You’re safe. Your children are safe. It's alright.”

He sat Padmé down and gave her a mug of stew. She ate a few sips with trembling hands, then stared numbly at the hearth. Obi-Wan gently removed her cloak and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, before kneeling down and unlacing her mud-caked boots. Unmoving, she became a statue on the mattress, dead weight without the light in her eyes.

Eventually, he removed the cup from her cold grasp and coaxed her to lie down. Grabbing a second blanket, he placed it delicately over he body, curled tight in a ball like Caneo all those nights ago. 

Hesistanly, the jedi bowed to press his lips against her damp forehead.

When he turned to leave, a small, hoarse voice croaked from beneath the covers. “Obi-Wan, hold me. Please.”

At daybreak, when the jedi left to meditate, he stepped on something solid in the mud, just outside the hovel. Crouching down, he picked up and held Padmé’s wooden pendant in his hands. 

 

\---

 

In the mornings, Obi-Wan woke before dawn and meditated on the mountainside, overlooking the ocean. By the time the sun rose, he was making breakfast for the twins back at the hovel. 

Leia was up the second any ray of sun peeked over the horizon. She would pace back and forth, a flurry of curls and words, telling Obi-Wan of this or that, drawing circles around him as he cooked with Caneo in the corner, blue tongue hanging out and ears perked forward with interest. Luke took after his mother in the mornings, and begged to remain in bed till midday. But Caneo would trod over to the small bed Padme had designed for the twins, and drag slobbering kisses across his face. The three ate together, then Obi-Wan would check to make sure they brushed their teeth and combed their hair. He became quite skilled at braiding. With his staff in hand, the jedi would trek down the hillside to the one-room school in the valley, the twins racing through the grass ahead of him. No matter how often they pleaded, he never let them walk there on their own. Obi-Wan merely hung back and watched the two, alight with innocence and enthusiasm. 

Back up the hill, Caneo was his only companion, mimicking his stops and never wandering more than a few feet away. It was during these returning trips when Obi-Wan felt the most thoughtful. It was also during these when he realized the distance between him and the Force. It seemed as though the connection became stored away in a drawer in the back of his mind. He had more important things to be concerned about. Like the twins. The twins, they were an anomaly. Apart, the Force lingered on them like salt in one’s hair after swimming in the ocean. But together, it became almost tangible; moving, evolving, growing. The air around them seemed other-wordly, almost holy in some fate-twisted way. It was breathtaking. And it terrified the jedi.

 

\---

 

Back at the hovel, Obi-Wan rested his staff in the walkway and entered the children and Padme’s shared room. She slept on her stomach, face squished into the mattress and hair a tangled mane around it. A loose, gray tunic wrapped about her frame, with straps that tended to slip off her shoulder in the night, exposing her skin to the morning sun as it peeked through the window. Often on these mornings, the Jedi wrestled with the temptation to lay delicate kisses between her shoulder blades, like the seeds they planted in the fields. But he could not. It would be despicable to take advantage of Padme while she was vulnerable. He was also a jedi, and she a former queen and senator. He did not deserve her anyway. 

Instead, Obi-Wan settled for lightly cupping a hand over her curls and crouching beside her.

“Padme.”

The queen remained still, leaving damp breaths against the mattress. 

“Padme. It’s time to get up. I’m going to be working on the kids’ room soon. I don’t want to wake you with all the ruckus.” 

Finally, she groaned.

“Fiiiine.”

 

\---

 

Across the hovel, Padmé and Obi-Wan had begun to build an extra bedroom for the twins to share. Using techniques native to Paradisus, they began with a frame of rocks, then would later add clay found along the shoreline. 

Obi-Wan knelt in the mud, a thin, stained tunic over his shoulders as he intricately piled one rock on top of the next. 

“I’ve got some refreshments,” Padmé spoke in a sing-song voice from the opening in the hovel wall. Still in her night dress, she wore a blanket wrapped around her bare shoulders, with her curls blowing every direction in the wind. 

The jedi stood to accept the cup of water she offered, with a second one remaining in her grasp. When their fingers touched, he saw his caked in mud to be a stark contrast to her freshly-washed skin. He should have let go. But he found it hard not to allow their touch to linger. 

“I’ll join you in a few minutes, once I get dressed,” Padmé said when he finally let go. She paused. A smile budded across her face in the morning sunlight as she gazed over their work. “The twins are so excited.” 

Obi-Wan raised his cup. “To growing children.”

Padmé mirrored his movements then watched him over the brim of her cup as she drank. 

 

\---

 

Padmé and Obi-Wan would make trips down to the shoreline, a large pail in each hand to collect mud for the twins’ room. A few years ago, the former queen and senator would never have imagined herself to be walking downhill barefoot, amongst mud and grass and rocks, much less living with Obi-Wan Kenobi on a remote planet. Yet somehow, she didn’t mind. Perhaps she had changed.

Her body had changed. Padmé could feel it. Ever since the twins were born, her breasts hung more loosely from her chest, and her stomach carried a little pouch with purple streaks along the sides. The wrinkles in the wings of her eyes were becoming more apparent, and the skin of her face seemed to stretch more along her cheeks and jaw. But, Padmé now felt muscles within her legs, and calluses on her feet and palms, with dirt eternally beneath her nails. And she liked it. It made her feel … strong. Invincible. More so than a queen’s crown or senator’s robe ever did. 

Obi-Wan changed also. His beard was now completely gray, with streaks throughout his hair to match. Though he worked constantly in the fields, his muscles seemed less defined, and his shoulders hunched forward more. It was that sheppard’s staff his relied on too often. 

The shores of Paradisus never had any sand. Instead they bore rocks or gray oozing mud that seeped into the ocean and matched the cloudy skies. Padmé and Obi-Wan began silently, bending at the waist to run their buckets through the mud. She glanced over at the old jedi master, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as though filling a pail with sludge took any precision. A sly smirked played at her lips.

Suddenly, a glob of mud splattered against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. He stared in shock at the unexpected mess on his tunic, then up at the giggling queen. 

“C’mon, Farmer Ben!” she taunted, spreading her arms wide, “Are you just gonna let a girl bully you like that?” 

The jedi cocked his head. 

“What did you just call me?”

“Farmer Ben? What, you don’t like that name? Wasn’t there a nursery rhyme about a farmer like you? Something about his age and livest-”

A clump of sludge crashed into the middle of her chest like a target, splashing up at her face. She sputtered in surprise as Obi-Wan burst into laughter. 

It had been years since she last heard his true laugh. She missed it.

A wad smacked against his stomach. This time he ran after her. 

Obi-Wan chased her through the mud as she skipped along the shoreline shouting ridiculous insults. “Na, na, na-na-na, you can’t catch me! C’mon, Old Fart! Is that the best you got?” In return he would pummel her with a barrage of mud as she squealed with every hit. There was sludge in her hair, on her face, down her shirt, between her toes. And she loved it. Every second of the chase was a burst of energy she seemed to lack these past few years. It was intoxicating. 

Running around a bend, Padmé slipped and fell on a patch of deep, sucking mud. She lay on her back, eyes closed. Obi-Wan slid to her side, a rush of panic shattering his smile. 

“Padmé,” he panted, placing a mud-caked hand against her cheek, “Padme!”

A fistful of mud slapped him in the face.

Padmé rolled over and began to crawl away in a hurry, hands and legs buried in the gray goo. But Obi-Wan, with a cry of “Oh no you don’t!” lunged forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, dragging her back to his side. 

The two finally collapsed on their backs, panting heavily as the sludge squirmed beneath and the clouds rolled above them. 

“You … ” the jedi gasped, “Are utterly ridiculous.”

Padmé chuckled, then shifted to lay on her stomach beside him, propped up on dirty elbows. “You … are utterly slow.”

“You … are utterly …” He paused as she stared down at him, the dim sun flickering behind her wild curls. She was smiling -no- beaming at him. “... ravishing.”


	6. The Truth

Luke and Leia stared at the jedi. The ocean winds blew their hair about their faces, both with round and rosy cheeks, and looking so helplessly at him. Padmé stood behind them, teeth chewing nervously at her fingers as the grey clouds thundered overhead. Obi-Wan wished for the love of all things good that he could understand their thoughts, their emotions, and what could possibly be tearing through their minds. But all he felt was the air around them shift into chaos. The Force turned into an ocean of its own with the raw power of their raging feelings as they sat in a meditative position so eerily still. 

That had not always been the case. Originally, when first learning the practice, Leia caught on right away, and the Force around her sang. But Luke tended to fidget and sigh and allow his thoughts to wonder. But now they seemed frozen, lifeless, as the Force crackled with pure energy. 

Leia was the first to stand.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” she thundered, brown eyes icy as her whipped about them, “This is important! We have the right to know!” 

Obi-Wan remained silent as the young girl turned to pace along the cliff’s edge. Padmé continued to chew nervously as she eyed her daughter, a storm that caused the one in the sky to pale in comparison. 

“Ben…” Luke spoke softly, nearly inaudible over the rush of waves and pounding of the Force. He stared at the jedi through blonde, floppy bangs. “How did he die?”

Obi-Wan swallowed the rush of vomit building in his throat, and did his best to remain placid. 

“In the war.”

“I know, but how?” 

He studied the young boy, a pure reflection of little Ani, the passionate slave driven by the burning desire to do good in a world where good was a fantasy, buried in the sands of Tatooine. It broke the jedi’s heart to tell them of the war, of the carnage and the lies, of the man their father once was. But it also stung to confirm that he was not their real father. This was selfish and immature, he knew. Yet something in Obi-Wan yearned for them to always see him as their father, as he has always seen them as his children. 

And now they stared. Leia furious and Luke somber as the jedi spoke of his brother’s death. Of the way his flesh sizzled and decayed in the fires of Mustafar. But not of the monster in the mask. Never will they know of that abomination. 

 

\---

 

That night Padmé lay in her bed, covers thrown off in the heat of the storm swirling outside. Awake, but not from the thunder. It killed her to watch her children suffer. For them to learn of the tragedy that created them. They were the one good to come from her and Ani. From the war. She just prayed they never saw themselves as part of the tragedy. 

The bedroom door creaked open, and in a flash of lightning she saw Luke and Leia lingering in the entryway. 

“Is everything okay?” she whispered, sitting up in bed. 

The twins shuffled over to her quietly and tucked themselves beneath her arms. 

“Tell us about him, Mommy,” Leia spoke into her mother’s tunic, “Tell us about our dad.”

And so, amidst the rain and the wind, Padmé laid back with two children curled against her as she spoke of the man she once loved.

 

\---

 

In the evenings, the four of them would sit at the kitchen table as the twins would become entertainment for the night. Leia always went on about what the teacher said or what new insect she discovered, while Luke filled them in on his tinkering or what some kid named Ivo did at recess. The two would fight for the upper hand in their stories as Obi-Wan and Pamdé nodded and hummed in acknowledgement. 

“I’m an excellent dancer,” Leia announced one night, proudly slamming her fork down on the table. 

“Oh?” inquired Obi-Wan, eyes fixed on his stew.

“Mhmm! Madame Tea said so-” She gasped as though some epiphany just dawned in her mind. “-We can show you! Luke learned too!” 

The blonde boy dropped the string of lettuce he had been staring at in disgust. “Wat?”

Leia bounced down from her seat to stand in the middle of the floor. “C’mon, Luuuke!” 

Her brother groaned something along the lines of, “Fiiiiiiiiine,” but didn’t refuse her. Not many could. 

Once Luke stood before her, Leia yanked his right hand to her waist and began dragging him across the floor with an offbeat, “one, two, three…” Their mother laughed and gave a dramatic “Bravo!” as the jedi watched quietly, a light smile on his lips and a loving glow in his eyes. 

When the fire began fading away, and the twins were sound asleep in their newly-finished bedroom, Padmé studied Obi-Wan as he crouched beside Caneo, who so patiently waited for leftovers beside the hearth. The jedi tenderly scratched behind the creature’s antenna-like ears as it gobbled away. 

“Obi,” Padmé spoke, resting her chin upon her palm from her seat at the table, “Can you dance?” 

He hummed, back still turned, “Oh yes, in fact I am an _excellent_ dancer.” 

“Oh really?”

“Madame Tea even says so.”

Padmé laughed. “Well then, master jedi, you _must_ show me.”

As she stood, Obi-Wan finally glanced at the woman behind him. “If only I could,” he joked, clutching at his stomach, “But your stew isn’t sitting with me quite right.”

She scoffed but smiled anyway.

“If you don’t dance with me, then how will I ever know if you were telling the truth?”

“Whether I dance or not, you’ll know I was lying.”

Padmé rolled her eyes and pulled the man up to his feet. “C’mon, Obi-Wan.” She led an arm to her waist and held the other tenderly in her hand. And slowly, they began.

It started with Padmé staring unwavering at the jedi as he did his best to avert his eyes and concentrate on his feet, and not on the way the small of her back shifted ever-so-slightly with each step. Finally, the queen placed a gentle finger beneath his bearded chin, and tilted it up to meet her gaze. Though all the years, though war and chaos, across the galaxy, the way Obi-Wan looked at her never quite changed. She first saw it in a time that seemed like another life, when Anakin stole kisses from her, the jedi master stole tiny, delicate glances. And each time his soft blue eyes would become so sorrowful. It took a while for Padmé to figure out why, when she realized he never looked at Ani or any other that way. Only her. He stared with longing. For years, she pretended not to see, or try and convince herself it was something else. But it remained, even through destruction and death and sleepless nights and dirty diapers and years of hiding, Obi-Wan still gazed with the same longing. Even now, next to the dying fire and the sleeping pet, his eyes remained the same. 

Padmé went for a twirl, spinning herself away then coming back and wrapping herself in his arms, back pressed against his chest. Remaining this way, she leaned into him, and rested a head against his cheek as they continued to sway, watching the last flames slowly begin to fade.

“Padmé,” Obi-Wan whispered after several quiet moments of holding her.

She remained silent.

“Padmé. We- I can’t.”

The swaying stopped. “And why not?” The commanding voice of the queen returned.

He sighed, his breath rushing against her hair. “Because-”

“Because the jedi?”

“No-”

“Then why? For kriffing sakes, Obi-Wan,” she pleaded, still leaning into his chest but with her features contorted in frustration, “Why can’t you allow yourself to be happy?”

“I am happy-”

“But you could have more!” she spun around to face him, face shadowed in the embers, “Don’t you want that?”

The jedi remained silent.

Padmé unwrapped their arms and began to walk away.

“Because of Anakin.”

She barely heard his confession over the night rain outside. 

“Anakin is dead,” a surge of determination punctuated her words.

“Padmé-”

The former queen whipped around to glare at him. “That monster on the holonet -I don’t care if it’s his body- it is not my Ani! That is not the man whom I married and gave me children!”

Obi-Wan did not speak, head hung low as he stared numbly at the glowing embers in the hearth. 

“You don’t have to play the martyr, Obi-Wan,” her voice dropped to the whisper she used to comfort the twins at night, the one which stirred his heart and left him feeling more lost than found, “I’ve seen the way you look at me- I’ve always seen it. So just this once, do this for yourself. Allow Obi-Wan to be happy.”

The jedi reached a hand into his tunic, and pulled a necklace to sit in his palm. Padmé felt her world screech to a halt, as he looked back up at her.

“I can’t.”

Then he was gone, left to wander in the pouring night as she remained staring at the light wooden amulet on the kitchen table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I had "Can I Have This Dance" from High School Musical 3 in my head while editing the last part.


	7. The Moment

Obi-Wan was gone when morning came. And so he remained throughout the day, and into the evening.

It was well past midnight, and the fire had died hours before. Padmé lay cocooned in a blanket on the jedi’s mattress in the main room. Through her echoing sleep, she heard when the door open with the sudden amplification of rainfall, and the rush of the damp night air. A moment passed. A dry, calloused hand touched her face, stretching across her cheek and reaching her hair, dragging subconscious circles through her curls. Chapped lips and brushes of facial hair rested momentarily against her forehead, breath warm against her skin. Padmé heard herself hum, slowly being pulled out of her dream. 

“Obi…” she spoke, voice hoarse from sleep, “I waited … I thought you might not come back … I waited…”

The fingers that tangled in her curls halted a moment. 

“I’ll always come back for you.”

Padmé’s lips stretched into a lazy smile as she reached up and wrapped her fingers around his thumb as it rubbed her cheek. 

“You’re a good man, Obi-Wan … a good man…”

When she felt his hand begin to lift away, she pulled it closer and pleaded, “Stay with me-” A giggle shook her. “I stole your bed.”

A second kiss, as tender as the first, pressed against her temple before her left her. Then the mattress began to dip behind her back. Padmé turned and burrowed herself into his side, drowning in the aroma of soil and ocean.

 

\---

 

At dawn, Obi-Wan went about his morning ritual, shushing the kids every time one raised their voice or dropped a fork. “Your mother’s asleep. We must be quiet.” Leia would then turn and shush Luke obnoxiously. Weaving in and out of sleep, Padmé listened, and smiled as a warmth crept through her. Home. This was home. 

She heard when they left for school with the jedi, and sat up as the morning sun glowed through the window. When Obi-Wan returned, the former queen was dressed in plain garb, braiding her hair before a mold-speckled mirror. 

“Good morning,” she greeted, smiling at him in the glass. 

The jedi remained still in the doorway.

“Obi-Wan?” She turned to face him.

“Would you join me on a walk?” He watched her, eyes vulnerable and pleading, as though there ought to be a “please” after such a simple question. 

The two trekked the green fields, hand in hand, both silent until the jedi led them to the open cliffside where he spent countless mornings in meditation. He turned so they stood facing another, the only connection between being the hands that melded so seamlessly together through the years.

“There is something I must say,” he began, eyes downcast in concentration, “It’s long and boring-” He chuckled, disbelieving to himself. “-But I feel it ought to be said.”

Padmé nudged their joined hands in encouragement. 

“There was a thought, that lingered with me for years. And as a jedi, I buried it. It was wrong and selfish and I knew it and I hated it, but it still remained-” Obi-Wan finally met her eyes and took a deep breath. “-Back before the battle of Naboo, I met a girl. A feisty, passionate handmaiden. And I admired her and the young foolish part of me thought maybe someday, we could be something more. Then years went by and the few times I ever saw her, the admiration grew, and the thought resurfaced. But every time I was reminded of our lives and our circumstances, and I knew, I never had a chance. Then the signs appeared, and my suspicion grew and I knew she loved another. And by the force, he loved her fiercely too. She even bore his children and sacrificed the driven, exciting life she had, to keep them safe. The three, and a rather depressed jedi-”

“Obi-”

“No-” He raised up a hand. “I need to say this.”

Around them, the planet stirred to life, the ocean beneath beginning to swell and the crops beside bobbing in the rhythmic wind as it pushed the clouds. Obi-Wan’s shaggy hair flapped about and Padmé’s tunic rippled, but they remained still, frozen in a sacred moment. 

“Padmé. You and the twins have made a lost man found, given him a reason for every wake-up and purpose for every action. And the countless days spent in the fields beside you or the meals amongst the children as they argue about force-knows-what…”

The former queen laughed, a light breath from between her lips. The jedi smiled. Genuinely beamed down at the woman with wrinkles beside her eyes and stray hairs waving about her face. 

“These have been the happiest days of my life. And I cannot thank you enough. But, Padmé. I wouldn’t want to ruin-”

She leapt forward and crushed her lips into his, silencing any doubts he dared to entertain. Her mouth was chapped yet tender, warm against his own and he soon tasted it like a starving man, finally reprieving the desire for her as the waves crashed into the rocky cliffside and the clouds shifted overhead and the wind twirled around them, pushing them together for this, this was peace. This was peace in the force. 

When Padmé stepped back, the color from years survived seemed to glow against her skin again in the morning sun. 

“I don’t deserve you,” the jedi whispered, a hand now gripping her waist as though if he let go, he might be swept off the cliff. 

She rolled her eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me, Obi-Wan.”

So he did.


End file.
